


Study Buddies (With Benefits)

by readbetweenthelions



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chemistry, M/M, Making Out, Studying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readbetweenthelions/pseuds/readbetweenthelions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is tutoring Isaac in chemistry, but neither of them can focus on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Study Buddies (With Benefits)

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot/drabble for Lotus, who requested Stiles/Isaac - studying.

“I mean,” says Isaac, with lips that are full and pink and attractive and a little bit scabbed from where he habitually picks at the skin, “I’m not that great at chemistry. So thanks. For your help, I mean.”

“Yeah,” says Stiles, “No problem.” He’s not a chemistry genius, not like Lydia anyway, who is a genius at everything, but he’s good at it. The only reason he’s pulling a C at the moment is because Harris has a personal vendetta. Christ, what did Stiles ever do to him? You’d think Stiles had run over his pets or something.

“Anyway, um, I was hoping for some help with…” Isaac pauses, skimming his textbook. He flips a page and the tendons in his forearm stand out for a moment, and Stiles swallows hard. “Electromagnetism,” Isaac finishes.

 _Electromagnetism,_ Stiles thinks, a little hysterically, _ha ha ha._ “Yeah, sure, right,” Stiles agrees, nodding emphatically. He flips through the pages of his own textbook until he finds the page Isaac is looking at - or, more accurately, _not_ looking at, since he is watching Stiles. “What, uh… What do you need to know?”

Isaac raises his eyebrows, his long, arching eyebrows that move so fluidly. It’s not fair, really, that someone is as attractive as Isaac. He looks like those Renaissance sculptures, the David and all that. “All of it,” he says. Stiles should have guessed. Why else would he be here? Stiles’ _hot bod?_ He laughs in his head at his own joke.

“Right, so,” Stiles begins, “It’s all about electronegativity. The more electronegative an element is the more likely it is to bond with something with a lower electronegativity, right?”

“Hmm.” Isaac isn’t paying attention. “So which ones are the high electronegativity ones?” He’s not looking at his textbook at all, to the table of elements that has all the electronegativities listed, color-coded, easy-to-read. Instead, Isaac is watching Stiles. Isaac’s eyes are on Stiles’ neck, and he wonders if Isaac is going to go full werewolf on him and just _bite_ \- or is that vampires? Stiles’ heart pounds and he’s completely turned around.

“Well it gets more electronegative the higher up you go,” Stiles explains, tracing a finger up the left side of the periodic table, from francium to hydrogen, “And the further right you go,” hydrogen to fluorine, and Isaac can probably hear the dry sound of Stiles’ fingertips on the paper - wolf hearing. Stiles feels self-conscious about every mole, every freckle and pore. _If he looks any closer,_ Stiles thinks, _he won’t need a chemistry book, he can just observe my molecules up close. Ha ha ha,_ he thinks as an afterthought.

Is Isaac licking his lips? Does he want some chapstick? Stiles can run upstairs and grab some…

“This isn’t really about electronegativity, is it?” babbles Stiles suddenly, hardly able to hear his voice over the rushing of blood in his ears.

“Not really,” says Isaac, and he leans forward and kisses him, full and heavy on the mouth.

“Oh,” says Stiles, but it comes out more like “Mmfgh.”

Isaac is all long, graceful limbs - he’s put together and coordinated in a way Stiles is not, and probably will never be. Stiles chocks it up to werewolf powers and, while he’s at it, throws in the impossible heat of Isaac’s body. The long fingers of Isaac’s left hand are pressed into the skin of Stiles’ neck, and the fingers of his right are curled around Stiles’ wrist. Stiles tries to run a hand through Isaac’s hair but gives up when his fingers tangle in the mess of curls. The tip of Isaac’s nose brushes the tip of Stiles’ as Isaac shifts position.

“I’m hot,” Stiles says after a minute, pushing away from Isaac a little. Isaac’s eyes flash with something - maybe arousal, maybe confusion - and Stiles continues, “No, really, I’m burning up. You’re like a furnace, seriously.”

“Well then,” Isaac says, “Take off your flannel. No wait - let me.”

“Oh,” Stiles replies, and he lets Isaac slip his arms out of the flannel. Isaac tosses it away behind him. “Um,” Stiles wavers, voice cracking just a little - _God_ he hates it when that happens - “Shirt too?”

Isaac smirks and strips off Stiles’ shirt - and his own, for good measure. Then his hands are back on Stiles, and his mouth trails sloppy kisses from Stiles’ jaw to his neck to his collarbone. Isaac’s lips on his sternum and Isaac’s hands on his skin, Stiles squirms against the carpet and an involuntary, contented noise escapes his throat. With Isaac’s breath hot on Stiles’ stomach, Stiles shivers.

“What’s that?” Isaac says abruptly, and the sudden absence of his lips makes Stiles jolt to alertness. It’s keys - keys in the lock of the front door.

“ _Shit,_ ” says Stiles. He pushes Isaac off and they both sit up, breathing hard. They scrabble for clothing, pulling on each other’s shirts on accident and Stiles kicking Isaac’s belt under the sofa. Isaac jumps to a standing position faster than Stiles can notice, and all of a sudden he’s packing his things. Stiles hears the front door open, hears his father’s footsteps.

“Thanks for your help, Stiles,” says Isaac, maybe a little louder than necessary, as Stiles’ dad looks into the living room from the hallway. “See you tomorrow.”

Isaac slips past the sheriff deftly, and he’s gone without another word to Stiles, even though Stiles can still feel Isaac’s saliva drying on his collarbone.

“Study session?” says Stiles’ father.

“Just helping with chemistry,” Stiles says. Which should have been true, if they hadn’t been distracted by, well, Isaac’s eyes and hands and lips and everything all over Stiles.

“You have a C in chemistry,” says his father skeptically.

“That’s because it’s Harris,” Stiles argues. “You’d think I’d run over his pets or something!”

His dad raises his eyebrows, but it’s obvious he doesn’t have the energy for banter at the moment. “Dinner in an hour,” he says, effectively releasing Stiles.

“Thanks!” Stiles says, and he scoops up his textbook and retreats to his room.

Stiles’ phone buzzes a minute later, resonating on his desk. Stiles snatches it up quickly and stares at the text message. Isaac. _Your room,_ it says, _tonight?_ and Stiles laughs dryly.

 _Yep,_ he replies. _Don’t bring the textbooks this time._


End file.
